


Early Light

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Alexander Trilogy - Mary Renault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-23
Updated: 2004-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1631876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Mieza, a secret is revealed.<br/>This is based on Fire From Heaven by Mary Renault. All characters are owned by her estate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early Light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cori Lannam

 

 

Hephaistion brushed a fly from his horse's neck. The apples had been harvested and the days were growing cooler, yet he was sweating in his wool cloak. The group of young men were on the road to Pella, where they would stay for a day and a night to see the festival. Ptolemy was throwing a party for the occasion, an invitation to which Alexander had refused. Hephaistion should go though, he had said, then joked with Ptolemy about the girls that would be there, like a soldier would. Hephaistion wondered what it meant, or if it meant anything at all. He had given little thought to women and it had lately begun to worry him, something he kept to himself. Alexander never spoke of them yet seemed to enjoy their company. He didn't want to go to any party, but Alexander had said he must go, so go he would, and he would enjoy it too, if Alexander said he should. Hephaistion chewed at his bottom lip in worry; perhaps Alexander thought he should be interested in girls.

Instead of the party and the theatre, Alexander would see his mother. On these occasions, by mutual unspoken agreement, Hephaistion never visited the palace with him. Olympias had asked to see him once or twice, at the beginning, until she had seen that Alexander would not bend. Her latest letter sat in Alexander's bag. Hephaistion knew it was there because he had carefully packed it himself that morning. It had arrived the night before, her words vitriolic and so wild that Hephaistion had found himself drawing back as Alexander made him read it. Only an arm round his waist had kept him there. Below the smiles and carefree talk today, one could see that Alexander still bore a faint frown when he thought no one was looking. The letter had been a bad one, but in its way no worse than many. Philip had a new girl.

'Mother wants me to be with her tonight, and then tomorrow morning, for the songs and the ceremony. She says she has some new clothes for me. I'm sure they'll be too small again. I swear she thinks that sometimes I'm still a child.'

Alexander was making light of it, so Hephaistion would too. He was quite sure that Olympias did not think any such thing. Her manipulations were plain to him. The shameless way she used Alexander as if no one could see what she did, as if Hephaistion did not see, were a lesson in politics he had never wanted to learn. But then, she probably did not think he was important enough to worry about. He swatted another fly away, harder than necessary.

'Mothers never forget that we were once helpless in their arms,' he managed at last.

Alexander met his eyes and Hephaistion suddenly wished more than anything else that they were alone. In Mieza, it was easy to find a private place in the woods or the grounds. In Mieza, Alexander was recognised as his and his place was secure. In Pella, Alexander belonged to the King, and to his mother and a hundred others. They wouldn't have any time alone at all.

'I wish you were coming to the party,' he said.

Alexander smiled back in answer.

It was a long day and Hephaistion spent much of it with the others, enjoying the sights of the city despite himself. In the evening the party seemed endless; hot and noisy and loud and he found his patience slipping. The drinkers grew boisterous and uncontrolled. Hephaistion hung back, separate and distanced. Every time he drank he could see seeing his own eyes reflected in his wine, gleaming darkly. Someone had once told him he looked like Alexander, and he could see it was true.

'Can I sit with you?'

He looked up, startled. The girl smiled at him, elegant and at ease in the middle of chaos. She looked young, his own age, but she acted far older. She was a professional, after all, like the other girls here.

It wasn't because he wanted her, although she was pretty and charming. He thought of how Alexander had laughed with Ptolemy earlier about girls and of how Aristotle talked endlessly about the true friendship of the soul, most certainly not of the body. Alexander himself had quoted Sokrates at him. The old fool said that the greatest and best love was made between two souls, and yet Hephaistion had it proved to him daily that Alexander's love was corporeal too: quick and vital and demanding. He did not know how he was supposed to balance the two: Aristotle's teachings didn't stretch that far. He wondered how Alexander was managing with Olympias, and anger rose up in him again. It must have shown on his face, because the girl broke off her talk and leaned over to kiss him.

She tasted sweet. Looking at her later on, in bed, as the moonlight fell over them, he thought that she almost might have been Olympias's daughter, but where Olympias seemed as strong and as lithe as plaited rope, this girl was frail, with slim wrists that showed blue veins and slender pale shoulders. Yet she groaned and sighed with surprising vigour in his arms, something he had not expected. Alexander didn't do that. Still, even as he gasped and moved inside her he imagined gold spilling through his fingers instead of her dark corkscrew hair, a different mouth, stronger arms pulling him down and twining round his waist. He lay awake afterwards, wondering if Alexander would want to know about this, whether he expected it, or if he would even think it worth mentioning.

The next afternoon as the sun was setting, the young men returned to Mieza subdued and exhausted, their shadows long and wavering on the road before them. Alexander didn't say much, but looking at the blue circles under his eyes, Hephaistion guessed that he was as tired as the rest of them. Hephaistion did not mention the reason for his own yawns, but hid them under his hand. He had known that the girl would not change him, if anything it had cast some things in a desperately clear light. Of course, he should mention it soon, before it was gossiped about. He tried to put it out of his mind.

The next morning he waited in his room for Alexander to seek him out.

'Hephaistion!'

It was him, his feet soundless on the stairs, the door flying open with a push of his outstretched hand. His face was pink from the early morning cold and he shimmered with life.

'Were you very tired last night? I missed you at supper,' Alexander said, with a smile, a little defiant. One hand rested lightly on the carved door frame, fingers tapping.

'I was, rather. Sorry.'

'Oh. It's the festival, I expect. Was it good?'

What did he mean? Alexander's smile was still light, yet if one looked closely, which Hephaistion did without fail, there were frown marks between his eyes. Hephaistion had a sudden, unwelcome feeling of being hunted. He must have heard, not that the girl was a secret or that Hephaistion was not going to tell him.

'Alexander.'

He stopped, not knowing how to say it, wondering how such a little thing could be so difficult. He received a long, cool look.

'Let's go riding,' Alexander said, matter-of-fact. 'I need to get away from here. I can still smell Mother's incense in my hair.'

Hephaistion, alone and lonely in his bed late at night, secretly feared that Alexander might lose interest if he had a girl. With all the energy and focus of youth he tortured himself with the thought, knowing only that it had not happened yet. His own faithlessness and doubt shamed him; they were childish thoughts, and he was not a child.

He remembered how, with a twist of her hips, she had made it suddenly so good. He wanted that again and wondered if he could ever ask Alexander for such a thing. His face reddened as Alexander tugged at his hand with unusual hesitancy.

Oxhead was snorting in his bridle, his hooves ringing on the flags as he stamped, eager to be away. They picked their way through the red-leaved beech trees to the grassy uplands. The sun pierced the thin white mist and after a while it was shining clear and warm on their faces as they galloped. Gold light spread across the hills and the air smelled of dew and of horse and wood smoke from the farms.

Finally, it came out. Alexander was never a coward, and if he had hung back from asking until now, Hephaistion guessed that it was only through fear of causing hurt.

'I heard you had a girl last night.'

'I was going to tell you.'

'Yes. I know.' Watching Hephaistion's face, he moved his horse closer, until their knees touched. He put out a hand. 'It was Mother who told me. Don't worry, the girl wasn't... hers. I told her to stop having you watched.'

Hephaistion's faced drained of blood and his belly went cold. Alexander gripped his hand so tightly that Hephaistion could see that his knuckles were white, the skin there so taut it looked like it might break.

'Shall we go up to the woods?'

'Yes.' Alexander let go, spurring Oxhead forward.

Hephaistion let Alexander set the pace and watched him fly off ahead, his hair glinting and his cloak snapping like a flag in the wind as he rushed towards the sun. In the morning light he was perfect and beautiful. Hephaistion's heart squeezed in his chest and he blessed his luck to be here, right at this moment. It seemed like a very good time to die, if he had to, and if Alexander would let him.

Alexander wouldn't approve of such thoughts; as he often said, there was so much to do and he had a loathing of wasted time. Hephaistion considered that, wondering if Alexander counted the nights too, and the other times. What they did then brought them nothing tangible, only shadows under Alexander's eyes the next day and a warm lethargy that Hephaistion, without even asking, knew that Alexander hated. He still didn't know what to think of that, partly because he was afraid of the answer. He got what he desired, often, and it was what no one else had. Still, there were nights when he lay awake, wondering what Alexander wanted.

They didn't have a place to go out here, but Alexander, flushed from the race, took him by the hand into the woods, declared the pine needles good enough and pulled him down with a sharp tug. The air was warming and golden lakes of sunlight pooled around them, chasing the shadows away from the forest floor. Hephaistion liked the trees; they were guardians, their branches twisted and sinuous. It was very quiet apart from the little sounds they made and the fleeting cries of birds as they dashed overhead.

Afterwards, Alexander was unusually close and attentive, not pulling away, even though his face became still and quiet and his gaze distant. Hephaistion wound his arms tighter around him and didn't break the silence, not knowing what to say or how to say it. His muscles were languid and heavy, yet even now he was trembling a little, still. The things they hadn't said hovered between them. Alexander stroked his hair very gently and pressed his face into Hephaistion's neck, then drew back and looked at him fully.

'I don't mind about her,' he said, firmly. 'Mother thought I would, that's why she told me, I expect.'

His voice was light again, almost carefree, but there was an undercurrent, something strained and not quite right. Hephaistion, who did not want to hear about Olympias, listened hard and detected other things in it: a question and a plea for love. Hephaistion crushed him close fiercely, making him gasp. Alexander was jealous. His sharp burst of joy at this was at once wonderful and painful and it came to him almost immediately that this was no victory at all; shame made him cling to Alexander even harder.

Alexander laughed but didn't struggle to get free.

'You're breaking my ribs.'

If it had been Alexander who'd had a girl, Hephaistion would have silently bled, but he would never say he minded, ever. Just as Alexander would never say it now.

The love of the soul never did this for him, Hephaistion thought, as Alexander's head tipped back and his eyes slid shut, as he proved to Hephaistion once again just what he would do for love. He thought of how much better it would go if they were in a proper bed with soft sheets and wine, not in a pine forest with damp tree roots digging into his hip and the horses snorting cheerfully nearby, their strong teeth ripping the grass from the ground.

Alexander would never ask, _was she as good as me? Did you enjoy it more?_ , so the only way that Hephaistion could demonstrate was by showing it, with his hands and lips and body.

Much later, near midday, they rode back to Mieza, stopping only to brush the pine needles from each other's hair and clothes. If Alexander had divined the reason for Hephaistion's eagerness he had said nothing, but had only returned it twofold. Hephaistion did not want the victory, but knew that he had it, even as he watched the frown lines on Alexander's face smooth and fade, to be replaced by the soft, contented look of someone who had got what they wanted, and who had made a sacrifice to get it.

Alexander's small, private smile as he looked over made Hephaistion's stomach flutter and he returned the smile, relieved and happy. He spurred his horse forwards, following Alexander out of the woods and into the open sunlight.

 


End file.
